Friday, December 11, 2009

Dreaming

Last night, or probably early this morning, I had an alarming dream, though somewhat silly as well. I dreamed I was wearing a ridiculous vintage mink or muskrat cape (something I used to own, actually, back in the late 60s, in my pseudo-hippie days). It had really broad shoulders, and looked as though the cat had been chewing on it. Probably it was some other, more distasteful animal, actually. I was wheeling the box I use for classes, to put papers in, and in the hustle and bustle, had lost my purse, which I found, with the wallet gone, of course, open on the stairs. As I woke, I felt violated and afraid. Probably I am telling myself of the dangers implicit in putting up drafts of poems I am working on here, exposing myself.

About Me

It feels odd to tell people, when they ask you what you do, that you are a poet. It is of course not a proper profession, if by "proper" one means a job that brings in money.
It is most certainly an occupation though. Reading, writing, going to poetry events make up a sizable percentage of my life.